


Hold My Beer

by Emi_theSassiestSousa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Blacking Out, Brief Mention of Suicide, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Everyone swears like the sailors they were meant to be, Fluff, Humor, In context of escaping djinn, M/M, Mild Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Use Your Words, angel!cas - Freeform, canon fluff, cas makes drinks, drunk!Dean, drunk!Sam, dubious consent kiss but then they talk about it, eldrich monstrosity bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 12:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emi_theSassiestSousa/pseuds/Emi_theSassiestSousa
Summary: Dean had always wanted to teach Cas about human things, and years ago that desire had taken off when Cas had fallen. But he was robbed of his chance then. So now that Cas was finally sticking around the bunker on a semi-regular basis, Dean had taken this opportunity by the horns.Tonight's lesson was prompted by an innocent question.“What's a buttery nipple?” Cas asked.Dean choked on his beer. He was still hacking up a lung when Sam answered, “It's a drink, Cas.”





	Hold My Beer

Dean’s eyes cracked open, just a sliver, the layer of morning crust glueing his lids together separating painfully. He took a sharp breath through his nose, and it burned his throat. He grunted at that, and it hurt his head.

He found himself lying on his side, and raised his hand to rub at his eyes.

“ _Hnn,_ ” grunted the person next to him, protesting the loss of his arm. Dean replaced it. “ _Mmh…_ ” came a hum of satisfaction.

In his sleepy fog, he hugged them closer, his morning wood pressing into their ass. He buried his face into the sheets— no, a shirt— and sighed into the fabric.

“ _Mmmhh…_ “ came another happy hum, this one more drawn out, and deeper…  

Huh... _really_ deep… and  _gravely…_

Dean launched himself from the bed as if thrown, his shoes clapping on the concrete floor. He was still fully dressed.

Arms spread defensively, eyes wide with shock, he stared back at the bed—

Where a pair of brilliant blue eyes under a riotous head of dark hair looked back.

“Dean?” Cas asked, confused at his sudden disappearance. He was also clothed, though for Cas, he might as well be naked. His coat, jacket, and shoes were missing.

 _“Shit…”_ Dean groaned, and it burned in his throat, “I've been caught by another djinn.”

Cas’s smile spread wide. “No you haven't. But it's heartening to know you think this is the vision a djinn would give you.”

“That's exactly what a djinn vision would say.”

Cas huffed a small laugh, and even though this wasn't real, it still lifted Dean's heart.

“No it isn’t. Do you not remember last night?” Cas asked. “I’d understand, you were very drunk.”

Dean tried to remember, but he was soon confronted with a point where the record skipped— there was nothing from yesterday evening until just now. Dean must have blacked out. But Dean never blacked out. At least, he didn't remember ever blacking out. So that must have been when he'd been caught.

He thought about the last time he'd been trapped by a djinn and almost groaned. He didn't look forward to having to kill himself. Again.

“This isn't a hallucination,” Cas said, apparently reading Dean's face like a book as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He knocked his head to the side, silently asking Dean to join him.

Still wary, Dean cautiously sat next to him.

“I could give you your memories back, or more accurately, pull them forward, if that's alright,” Cas asked.

Dean eyed him suspiciously, still not convinced he wasn't hallucinating.

“Alright,” he agreed, suppressing a wince at the way his voice still tore at his throat and made his head pound.

Cas touched his forearm, and the effects of his hangover vanished.

His hand lingered.

“Um, thanks,” Dean mumbled.

Cas smiled in response, just a lift in the corner of his lips, but Dean's heart still raced at it.

This couldn't be real.

Cas's smile turned knowing, but instead of arguing the point further, he placed two fingers to Dean's temple, and began.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

Dean had always wanted to teach Cas about human things, and years ago that desire had taken off when Cas had fallen. But he was robbed of his chance then. So now that Cas was finally sticking around the bunker on a semi-regular basis, Dean had taken _this_ opportunity by the horns.

Over a short span of time he had already taught Cas a wide variety of things, from how to make the perfect omelette ( _You HAVE to keep the heat low. Turning up the heat doesn't cook the eggs faster, it just fucks them up_ ) to how to change the oil in Baby ( _You know some places charge like thirty bucks for this? Shoulda started a garage, Cas_ ).

Tonight's lesson, however, was prompted by an innocent question.

“What's a buttery nipple?” Cas asked.

Dean choked on his beer. He was still hacking up a lung when Sam answered, “It's a drink, Cas.”

“A drink.”

“Yeah, people kind of have a thing for giving drinks crazy names. Sex on the Beach, Purple Nurples, Tequila Sunrise…”

Cas squinted at his phone, “Do we have Irish Cream?”

Dean, having finally collected himself, lit up at this opportunity.

“No, but you and I are gonna get some.”

_Dean mentally chuckled at the accidental innuendo. He couldn't hear Cas’s sigh, but he sure felt it, as his fingers pressed a bit more insistently on his temple._

After a ludicrously expensive shopping trip ( _Fuck it, we'll just MAKE the Irish Cream_ ) they returned to the bunker laden with what had to be every kind of liquor known to man— well, at least every kind known to Lebanon, Kansas.

Dean set down the four bags he was holding and began to sort through their haul, “What should we start with? Somethin' easy like a good ol' Rum ‘n’ Coke?”

Cas set down the ten bags he held, sliding them carefully off his arms. “Won't the dairy products expire fastest?”

Dean grinned at this detail Cas remembered about using up the items in their kitchen. “Yeah, let's mix up that stuff first.”

Over the course of the evening Dean taught Cas the basics of drink mixing. He figured out early on that Cas had a sweet tooth when it came to booze. They'd assembled the Irish Cream and made some Buttery Nipples, and Cas had enjoyed them greatly, but when they got to those Rum ‘n’ Cokes, Cas found those boring, and the bubbles tickled his nose.

Long Islands got a mixed reaction, and Appletinis went over well, but much later in the afternoon, Dean had to fight off a silly grin when, going on a hunch, Apple Pies were shown to be a big hit. Cas had three before Dean made him move on to something else.

They studiously ticked off the list of all the drinks Cas wanted to try until Sam showed up.

“Holy shit,” he said, looking at the absolute disaster that was the kitchen. The more drinks they tried, the less Dean seemed to care about keeping his kitchen clean.

“Heya, Sammy!” Dean slurred at him. “You wan' one a' these Purple Nurples?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “No, I think I'll just have a beer.”

“What a great idea!” shouted Dean, throwing his hands in the air. He hopped over to the fridge and pulled out three beers, some brand called Dunkel Dog that had caught Cas’s eye in the store. He made a valiant effort to twist off the definitely not twist-off cap, shrugged, and handed it to Sam. “Here ya go!”

Sam took his beer with a smirk and popped the lid with a nearby bottle opener. Cas pushed his lid off with his thumb.

“Well I came in to see how you guys were doing—”

“Great!” interrupted Dean.

Sam chuffed. “Yeah, I can see that. I dunno, thought you guys might want to watch a movie or something?”

“I’ve been wanting to watch this 'Adventure Time' that’s popular on the internet,” Cas said without a hint of impairment.

“Well that's a show, not a movie—”

“Whatever, it sounds great! Oh— Hey! We should make it a drinking game!” Dean shouted gleefully.

“Um—” started Sam.

“C’mon, Cas, what drink should we make for it?” Dean turned to Cas and grabbed his arm.

“Um—” started Cas.

Dean snapped his fingers, “I know! Adult milkshakes! Here, hold my beer.”

Sam left to get the cartoon ready on the TV in his room while Dean scooped the ice cream, poured the milk, and showed Cas how much vodka to add into the tumbler. He put the lid on and handed it to Cas, trading it for the beers he was patiently holding.

“Here, shake that up good, you brawny asshole.” He took a swig from one of the beers. It might have even been his own.

Cas’s brow furrowed at the unexpected insult, but he obligingly took the tumbler and shook it.

And Dean definitely _didn't_ try to watch the way his muscles jumped with the effort under his clothes.

_The fingers on Dean's temple shook slightly. Was Cas… giggling?_

With the milkshakes poured, they joined Sam at the TV and hunkered down to watch. After arguing about the way-too-many drinking rules Dean wanted to make, Dean looked down at his glass. Empty. He checked Cas’s glass. Also empty.

“Hey, buddy, why don't you go make us some more? Can't have a drinking game with no drinks!”

“Sure, Dean” Cas said, smiling just a little.

And— Oh... Had Cas’s smile always given Dean butterflies?

...Yeah, probably.

Cas took their glasses and left for the kitchen.

_At this point, Cas added his own memory for Dean._

_Cas walked to the kitchen. He quickly readied the ice cream and milk, but which bottle did he need again? They had gone over so much today…_

_He went back to Sam’s room. “Dean, which alcohol do I use again?”_

_“Vodka, Cas! Two shots in the tumbler!”_

_“Which one was the vodka again?”_

_“The clear one, man!”_

_“Hey, could you make me one too, Cas?” asked Sam._

_Cas returned to the kitchen. He grabbed the clear bottle nearest to the tumbler and measured out two shots. He shook it up, poured it in a glass, and repeated. He returned to the room with his three drinks and Sam and Dean enthusiastically thanked him._

_“Damn, this is the best thing I've taught you so far!” Dean laughed. Cas’s memory focused on the huge smile on his face._

Dean's memories returned now, a bit hazy around the edges.

They continued watching episodes, their laughter getting louder with every milkshake Cas brought them. But soon Dean wasn't even following the eleven-minute plots anymore, and things were getting confusing and boring to him.

The memories were very fuzzy now, just on the edge of incomprehensible. This must have been when he blacked out.

Dean leaned heavily against Cas, “Wha’s even goin' on right now?”

Cas, who didn't seem nearly drunk enough, went stiff next to him. “Um, the boy and the talking dog were about to—”

"Hey!" Sam barked, having glanced over at them, “Getta room, you two!”

“I'm _inna_ room, Sammy!” Dean shouted back. "Ha! Gotcha."

“Not _my_ room! Get the hell outta here!” Sam pushed at Dean, almost knocking him off the bed.

“Hey!” Anger rose in Dean. He was about to push back when Cas put a hand on his shoulder.

“Perhaps it's time to go, Dean,” Cas said gently, tugging just a bit, asking him to follow him out.

Dean looked back at Cas— right at those pretty fuckin’ eyes— and right then he probably would have followed Cas back into Hell if he'd asked.

“Uh— Yeah, sure.”

Dean wasn't sure when he'd gotten up from the bed, but now he was standing in the hallway with Cas and Sam's door was shut behind them.

“Hey, where’re we goin’, Cas?”

“I'm not sure. Sam just wanted us out.”

“Why were we in Sam's room?”

Cas looked at Dean with that little head tilt he would do sometimes. It was cute. And now it gave Dean the urge to ruffle his hair. It kinda always did, but now he saw absolutely no reason not to.

His hand was about halfway there when he forgot what he was doing with it. He pulled it back to frown at it.

“Perhaps you've had enough to drink tonight,” Cas said.

 _Part_ of that registered with Dean, “Oo, drinks!” and he took off for the kitchen. At least, he hoped the kitchen was over here.

He landed heavily against the counter, knocking the bowl they had whisked up the Irish Cream in to the floor with a loud clatter. “Whoops!”

He bent over to pick it up, and ended up with his ass on the floor. “Huh.”

A hand grabbed his bicep and he was quickly rising. “Whoa.”

Two hands steadied him on his feet. “Hey.”

He looked down just an inch and there was Cas, his eyes creased in the corners with worry but his mouth tipped ever so slightly in a smirk.

“Boy, yer strong, Cas,” Dean smiled at him.

“Do you always state obvious things when drunk?”

“Who you callin’ oblivious?” Dean tried to say. But the word ‘oblivious’ was stymied in impossible b’s and v’s.

Cas smiled at him, a real one this time with teeth flashing and everything.

Dean’s chest warmed at the sight. “You should do that more,” he said, pointing too close to Cas’s face.

“Do what?”

“Smile. Love it when you do that.”

Huh. Can angels blush? “Come on, Dean, you should go to bed—”

“ _Nahh,_ ” Dean protested, pushing Cas away— well, pushing himself away from Cas. “Imma get another drink!”

He grabbed the nearest bottle and glass.

“Wassiss?” He glared menacingly at the label. “Everclear... When did we get this?”

“Today, Dean.”

“Right, right.” Somehow he got the lid off and tried to pour it. More of it ended up on the counter than in the glass.

“Here,” Cas took the bottle and glass from him.

_The clarity of Cas’s memory was jarring, only the slightest bit fuzzy._

_Dean, suddenly distracted by a bottle opener on the counter, turned away from him, and Cas took the opportunity to pivot to the sink and fill the glass with water. He purposefully clunked the alcohol bottle on the counter and handed Dean the glass of water— which he immediately chugged. Dean never noticed the difference._

Dean's memory slid back in, as fuzzy and hazy as ever. The background was almost nonexistent now, only the most immediate things coming into any sort of focus. He set a bottle opener on some counter top and raised his eyes back up from it. Cas’s tan form waved before him.

“Heya, Cas,” he said.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Whatcha doin’, Cas?”

Cas might have sighed. He took a step toward Dean, “I'm not sure,” and pushed him back upright. Dean didn't know he'd been leaning.

 _“Ahh,_ that's alright, Cas, neither do I,” Dean smiled back. A question popped to the front of his mind, joyously calling out, “Hey, whatcha wanna do, Cas?!”

“Get you into bed.”

Dean's heart stopped.

“You're drunk, you should lie down. And now you're going pale.”

The gears whirred back to life in Dean's head. “Shit.”

Cas squinted. “'Shit' what?”

“Uh, nothin’. Wanna go do somethin’?”

Cas _definitely_ sighed this time. “What do you have in mind?”

“I dunno.” He spun around and started walking somewhere.

He wandered out of the kitchen. What room was he in now? While squinting in a effort to focus, he ran into something. Something about hip-height. Oh, the map table! His gaze eagerly shot up to the staircase and he took off. Was that a hand that had almost grabbed his shoulder? Eh, whatever. Outside!

Dean burst out the front door into the cool night air, his chest swelling with a warm, unbridled happiness. He turned around and found his vision filled with Cas.

“I love our home, man.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, and even while blitzed and in the dark, Dean could read Cas’s silent look. _It's a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere,_ it said. Basically. Probably.

“I know, but it's our _home._ It's got cool weapons and robes and showers and the rooms change around sometimes for the hell of it, and it's got you now! It's the _best,_ man.”

The skeptical eyebrow fell, replaced by surprised ones. ”I didn't realize I was a feature.”

 _“Whaaaat?”_ Dean shouted into the night, “‘Course you are, dumbass! Yer the best thing in this place since Sammy got the internet going!”

Dean spun around, not catching how Cas might have reacted to that. “Hey, there's some woods over there, right?”

Now a hand definitely grabbed his shoulder and he was spun back around. “Dean, you should go to bed.”

“Nah, I'm not tired!" Dean protested. Then he pursed his lips and regarded Cas suspiciously. "Are _you?”_

“I don't sleep.”

“See! It's settled then, let's go!” He tried to leave again but Cas effortlessly held him firm.

“Aww, let go, Cas, that's not fair!”

Just then, an idea struck Dean, a _brilliant_ idea.

He let his knees give out beneath him and rolled backwards out of Cas's grasp.

Well, that's what he _wanted_ to do. He actually just crumpled to the ground and began tumbling down the slight hill the bunker was built into.

Somewhere above him, Castiel, long-suffering Angel of the Lord, sighed.

 

\-----

 

The next part wasn't coming back well at all. He knew was back inside now. And the stairs had been hard, he remembered that much. Now, though, he was being led down a hallway.

“Where’re we goin’?” Dean asked Cas. Did he ask that already?

“Bed.” Cas answered flatly. Ah, he probably had.

“Aw, no! C’mon, let’s go— let's go—” Dean shuffled through the papers of his thoughts, his mind desperately searching for something viable. It held one up triumphantly, “Let’s go on a hunt together!”

Cas stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“Yeah, you n' me! I’ve always wanted to! No grumpy-ass Sam to spoil our fun, all the burgers we want, drinkin' all night in the bars, you n' yer badass angel skills fightin' the bad guys, it’ll be great!”

“You... want to go on a hunt... with me?” 

“I just said that, Cas, r'you even listenin'?” Dean tried to tip his head, but he almost fell over instead. Cas wordlessly nudged him back up, his eyes never leaving his face.

Dean’s mind picked up his track again, "C'mon!" and he snatched Cas's wrist and took off towards the garage. Cas followed with surprisingly little resistance. 

After forever, they ended up at a door, but it wasn’t to the garage.

“Damn rooms.”

“You took a wrong turn, Dean.”

“Did not! I know this place like the back a' my hand!” He held up a hand too close to Cas’s face. “Oh hey, that’s new,” he said at a scar.

“Dean…” Cas took Dean’s hand and lowered it.

It tingled even after Cas let go. Dean stared at it.

“Dean?” Cas asked, dipping his head to catch his gaze and bring it back up.

“Um.” Dean’s mind was awash in flashing red lights, just now realizing he was _really_ close to Cas in this little hallway. “So. You wanna... um…”

“No, Dean, I just want to get you to bed.”    

The lights were joined by sirens. “No, no! Uh— That’s, um— C’mon, where’s the— the, ah... Where were we going?”

“Well you wanted to go to the garage, though neither of us should be driving anywhere—”

“Yeah, the garage! Where's the garage?” Dean tried to rush around Cas.

The next thing Dean knew there was a dropped shoulder in his chest and his back was slammed into the wall. 

“Damn it, Dean," Cas said, his hands pinning Dean's shoulders, "stop running off!”

Dean’s eyes flew wide, and he was stunned into momentary silence. But soon enough his mind caught up to the situation at hand:

1) Cas had just fuckin'  _hockey checked_ him into the wall, and

2) Cas was stopping him from leaving.

From somewhere deep, anger flowed up into him.

“Let me go,” he growled, his voice pitched far lower now.

Cas's lip curled, almost snarling in response. “You are _drunk_ and you need to go to _bed.”_

“I _am not.”_  He tried to shove his shoulder out of Cas’s grasp. It didn’t budge. “If I’m drunk, so are you!”

“Dean...” Cas’s face swam in his vision. “Just— Please. Let’s go.”

At that ‘please,’ Dean’s drunken anger couldn't help but soften.

He blinked. He looked around. His face scrunched in grumpy confusion.

“Where the hell are we?” And had the walls always been made of jello?

Cas looked around, too. “I’m not sure.”

Dean's mind thrust forth another great idea. He perked up, still held against the wall. “Hey, Cas, wanna go exploring?”

Cas paused for a long moment before he answered. “Yes, I do, but you should go to bed.”

His face fell. “You’re no fun.”

Cas paused again, then took one hand from Dean’s shoulders to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“Nah,” Dean said with a smile.

Cas released him fully from the wall and Dean took Cas’s wrist again, leading them back down the hallway. It was probably a hallway. Did hallways always have this many turns? And the floor sure was taking a long time to come up to meet his feet.

“Huh, this one looks cool.” Dean stopped abruptly at an open doorway, causing Cas to knock into him. Dean lurched forward and quickly found there was nothing on the other side. He flailed his arms and his fingers slipped over the door frame and he was falling into the endless black— Then something around his waist tugged back sharply, and next thing he knew he was looking up at the ceiling.

Something moved beneath him.

He rolled over— or was he pushed— and his vision blurred even worse as he landed on the hard floor. Now he was looking at some stairs that led down to somewhere.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Please, Dean, can we call it a night now?”

Dean rolled back over onto his back to see Cas rubbing his stomach.

“You just saved me.”

Cas rolled his eyes as he sat up, his body now no more than a tan, blurry mess.

He looked down at Dean. “I’ll always be here to save you, Dean.”

That clicked Dean’s mind to a different gear. “So you’re gonna stay this time?”

“What?”

Dean tried to push himself up, but found he was laying on a waterbed. “Are you gonna stay this time?”

Cas didn’t answer.

Dean gave up and just flopped instead, splaying out over the floor. “I really want you to stay, Cas. I really, really, want you to stay.”

Dean’s mind registered that Cas was very still now, even though Dean wasn’t looking at him.

“Why?”

Dean’s mouth began without his permission, “'Cause I wanna keep teachin' you all this human shit, an' maybe you could teach me some angel shit, an' I wanna watch movies with you an' I wanna get drunk with you an' I wanna go on hunts with you an' I wanna—” Dean stopped his mouth from talking. “No, wait. I’m not gonna tell you that.”

Cas shifted. “Not gonna tell me what?”

“All the other stuff I wanna do.” Dean clenched a fist. “It’s a secret.”

“I see.”

“You got any secrets, Cas?”

Silence.

“That’s a yes.”

Cas huffed through his nose in a laugh. It wasn’t much, but it was one.

“Love it when you laugh, man.” Dean tilted his head one way or the other, he wasn’t sure. “Whoops,” he rumbled, “Wasn’t gonna tell you that.”

Cas was quiet at that. Then Dean heard him shift again.

“I love it when you laugh, too,” he said softly.

Dean raised his head to look in Cas’s general direction.

“It only seemed fair,” Cas answered his look. “To tell you a secret. You told me one.”

“Ah." Dean let his head fall to the floor. “Ow.”

Great, now his head hurt.

...What Cas had said landed on the pile of thoughts in Dean’s brain.

He shot upright, his mind spinning with dizziness from either sitting up too fast or with the sheer speed at which files were being rearranged in his mind. Because Dean knew why _he_ loved Cas’s laugh— He did know why he loved that laugh, right? Yeah, yeah he did. 

Cas jumped at the speed of his ascent.

They both froze. Staring at each other. Dean’s eyes couldn’t focus on Cas, but they sure tried their damnedest.

Dean had no idea what to do. He had kind of thought about this before, but it was so far from his realm of possibility that he hadn’t bothered to actually, like… _plan_ anything. Gears were shifting, the printing press was running, but everything that came out was stupid, or gibberish, or both.

Then, out of the mess, one thought strode forward, golden and shining.

“I’m tired I should go to bed,” Dean blurted.

For the life of him, Dean couldn’t see how Cas reacted to that. He was just a blob of tan a few feet away. And now he was a blob of tan hovering over him. And now he was a pair of blue eyes under dark eyebrows, surrounded by beautiful creases as he squinted at him. Hey wait, since when did he use the word ‘beautiful’?

Now standing somehow, Dean abruptly turned, “Um. Yes. Bed," and began walking.

They bumped into each other as Dean kept trying to take the turns he thought led to the hallway of bedrooms. Cas seemed to think they were somewhere else, and gently guided him along in that direction. Dean hoped his bedroom hadn’t moved again. It had a bad habit of doing that every few months.

Finally, Dean’s mind latched onto some detail and he knew where he was. He and Cas agreed on a course and found his room.

They stopped there, awkwardly standing outside the closed door.

But Dean's golden idea had apparently taken a walk, as it was now nowhere to be seen.

In lieu of that, his mind handed him another idea and Dean smiled. Now _this_ one was definitely brilliant.

“Hey, could you help me over to the bed?” He purposefully swayed for effect. “M'not feelin' so great.”

Cas, for his part, just rolled his eyes and opened the door to lead them in. Dean followed, and subtly closed the door behind him.

“Why did you close the door?” Cas asked.

Okay, so Dean not-so-subtly closed the door behind him.

“Reasons,” he answered, not wanting to deviate from his brilliant plan.

 _“_ Right...” Cas said. He held Dean by the shoulder and guided him forward.

By some miracle they made it over to the bed without toppling to the floor, and now Dean could launch his plan. He fell to the bed, hanging onto Cas’s sleeve—

But Cas just let him drop. Dean landed sideways with his legs hanging weirdly. Kind of painfully.

“Hey, wait,” Dean said, trying to sit up again.

“What?” Cas turned back from already moving to leave.

“That didn’t work. Lemme try again.” He fumbled at Cas’s arm, trying to pull himself up.

Cas sighed, but he pulled Dean back up, obviously humoring him.

Alright, take two.

Dean clamped around Cas in a bear hug and leaned back—

But Cas didn’t budge.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked.

Dean growled in frustration. “Fall with me, dammit!”

“What?”

Dean jerked, thinking he could catch Cas off guard. He didn’t.

“Why are you trying to make us fall over?”

“Because—” he started, then caught up on what his mouth had been saying without permission again. “It’s a secret.”

With minimal effort, Cas pushed Dean back from the death-grip he had around his chest. He searched Dean's face.

“Perhaps…” Cas started as Dean held his breath, “perhaps we should trade again. One secret for another.”

Dean released a sigh of relief. Yeah, that was fair.

“I’m tryin'a pull you over 'cause I want you in my bed with me.”

Dean focused intently on Cas, waiting for the return secret. Through his swimming, drunken haze he saw Cas’s eyes as they widened, and the muscles in his neck as they drew tense.

Dean nodded a bit, urging him on.

Cas’s mouth opened. It closed. He swallowed. 

“I— would also like that.”

Dean smiled. There, see, that was fai—

 

Wait, what.

 

He just said— Cas had just said— And  _Dean_ had just said— Wait. Cas was in his room. And Dean was trying to pull him into bed. And Cas said he’d like that. And that he loved his laugh. And that he was staying. And Cas was in his room. And he just said—

Dean lunged forward and kissed Cas.

The shock of it knocked them back into the dresser, throwing something on top to the floor with a clatter. 

Not that Dean heard it. His mind was too busy lighting with joy, his world shrinking in scope to nothing but this. He was kissing Cas, and he wanted Cas, and Cas was here, and he—

And he...

 

He...

Dean pulled back, pressing his forehead into Cas’s, pushing his nose against his.

“Please, Cas, kiss me back."

“Dean—”

 _“Please,_ Cas—”

“You’re drunk—”

“I’m _not.”_  He slid his hand up to the back of Cas’s neck, fingers threading through soft hair. “Cas…” He tried to kiss him again.

But Cas pulled back, “Dean, please, I need you to believe me. You’re drunk, you’re going to regret this in the morning—”

 _“God,_ no— I won’t. Cas, I _swear_ I won’t.”

“You’re saying that now, but—”

“No. No—  _please—_  Cas, I—” He pulled back to look him in the eye—

 

And he wobbled.

 

And that was it, it finally hit Dean.

A burn crept up behind his eyes. “Fine. Fine, Cas, I’m drunk! Is that what you wanna hear?"

"Dean..."

"I'm fuckin' drunk, and you don't wanna kiss me, but... would you..." he tried to meet Cas's eyes, tried to focus on those damned, sad fuckin' eyes, "would you at least stay? Please, would you please, stay?” Dean pulled him closer with the hand on his waist, pushing his face into the crook of his neck. “I promise I won’t regret it, Cas, I promise I won’t get mad. Please, just tonight, I just want you to stay so bad.” He pushed further into Cas's shoulder, his hand squeezing the back of his neck. “I just... I just want you to stay.”

Still pushed up against the dresser, standing so stiff against Dean, Cas took a deep, shaking breath.

He wrapped his arms around Dean, and he hugged him back.

 

“Okay.”

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

Cas removed his fingers from Dean’s temple.

The room was silent.

“I’ll admit," Cas said, his expression soft, "it’s nice to have the other side of those events.”

Dean snapped to face him, his eyes doing their best to take him in all at once.

He had stayed with him last night, just like Dean had asked.

He had put up with all of that, after all he'd done was try to help, and then after all of that Dean had—

“I...” he tried.

Cas waited patiently for him to collect himself.

The most important question leapt forward. “I'm so sorry, Cas, are you okay?” 

If it was possible, Cas’s face softened even more. “Yes, Dean, I’m okay."

"Cas—"

"I promise," he insisted. He looked more intently at Dean, "Are you? Okay?”

“Me? Uh— I’m…” The words came slowly. “I’m... overwhelmed. And... scared.”

Cas sat up straighter. “Scared of…?”

Dean clenched his jaw, glaring at the floor. “Scared that I just fucked all this up by being a fuckin' dumbass.”

Cas just nodded. “Well it _was_ … shocking. It’s certainly not how I hoped to talk about this someday.”

“But you did?" Dean popped up to face him. "I mean... Hope to talk about it?”

Cas smiled, just a little one, and just like always, Dean's chest felt a bit warmer for it. “Yes, Dean,” he answered, "I did."

“Well, um..." Dean's hand made a fist against his thigh. "Alright. Then I... I guess we’ve got another shot at it, huh?” 

That smile grew just a fraction. “Yes, I guess we do.”

They stared at each other, finding themselves leaning just a little closer. Dean licked his lips.

“'Course now I got no idea what to say,” he whispered.

“Well, then... _perhaps…”_   Cas carefully raised a hand, paused, then raised it further, slowly coming to lay at Dean’s jaw.

The warmth of it sent a chill down his spine and a firecracker rocketing through his chest, and for a moment, Dean panicked, not sure what he should do in return. But Cas's thumb moved minutely across his cheek, and his hand pulled him ever-so-slightly, and Dean simply closed his eyes, and allowed Cas to lead him.

They met again, far less dramatic, far more real. It was honest, it was what the both of them wanted.

They parted, each shining with a smile apiece, and they took a moment for themselves to just enjoy the warmth of their little afterglow...

“Wait a minute,” Dean sat up sharply. “In that memory you gave me, did you… Did you put _Everclear_ in our milkshakes?” 

Cas's eyes shifted, looking anywhere but Dean. “I’m starting to think I might have."

“Holy— That shit’s 190 proof! Oh my god, we’re lucky we’re not dead!”

"I don't think I gave you enough to—"

"Holy _shit!_   We gotta check on Sam!” Dean leapt to his feet and snatched Cas's hand, dragging them out down the hallway.

As they approached, Sam’s bedroom door opened and he stepped out. He was bleary-eyed, his hair was an absolute disaster, and he just barely seemed to register that Dean and Cas were even there.

“Hey,” he croaked when they stopped in front of him, rubbing at his eyes.

Then Sam stopped. He lowered his hands from his face and slowly looked down...

To where Dean and Cas were definitely holding hands.

He looked back up at them.

“What the fuck was in those drinks last night?”

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this one was just the title, "Hold My Beer." Thanks, Threshie!
> 
> Wrote this because I'm still too jazzed from Scoobynatural to work on the REALLY angsty stuff. Needed some happy, drunk fluff. Well, mostly happy. :)
> 
> **Fun Fact Separate from the Story**  
> This isn't an accurate depiction of how blacking out works. When you black out, your mind has actually stopped forming any new memories at all— your brain hasn't pushed the "record" button. So in our universe, there would be nothing there for Cas to "pull forward." But, y'know, fiction. :)


End file.
